Amy’s chest tightened as she switched off the stove and transferred the food into containers. After putting them in the fridge, she walked into their bedroom and lingered in the doorway. The king-sized bed was far too large for her liking, the flower patterns on the wall too dull, and the olive bed sheets Eric had picked out too neat.
None of it felt like it was hers.
She was a stranger in her own home, and she was surprised by how good it felt to rip the sheet away. Amy left it in a heap on the floor and reached for the pillows, throwing them haphazardly over her shoulders. Her heart was pounding when she turned her attention to the closet and threw an armful of her clothes onto the bed. Each act of defiance made her feel better, and somehow, the fact Eric was going to hammer into her when he got home didn’t scare her.
If anything, it emboldened her, at least until the entire room was in a state of disarray, and the tightness in her chest still hadn’t abated.
Amy’s hands shook as she got down on her knees and pulled a bag out from under the bed. She unzipped it, threw it onto the bed, and stared at it for a long time. With Lily’s words playing out in her head, she found herself filling the bag up, adding her clothes, toiletries, and a few sentimental belongings she’d hidden in a secret compartment in the closet, full of mementos from when the children were younger.
Once she was done, she perched on the edge of the bed and swallowed. “What are you doing, Amy? What on Earth are you doing?”
In the silence of their penthouse apartment, Amy Gruntle sat in the middle of her room, surrounded by clothes and sheets and pillows littering the entire floor, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when she glanced up at the clock and realized how late it was. Not when she stood up and saw the flush in her cheeks and the wild glint in her eyes in the bathroom as she splashed cold water on her face.
And not when she changed out of her heels and into a pair of comfortable flats.
With one hand in the closet, rummaging through her secret compartment, Amy kept the other hand pressed into the carpeted floor. Her heart was still hammering uneasily when she pulled out a purse full of cash. In a daze, she tossed it into the bag and hoisted it off the bed. In the bathroom, she avoided looking at her reflection directly.
Amy had one hand on the knob when fear slammed into her again, making her take a few steps back.
A small tremor raced through her, and Amy draped an arm over her stomach.
She didn’t want to stop and get sick.
Not here, not now.
Not when her racing mind might seize the opportunity and talk her out of it.
Amy hated the idea of one more delay or one more excuse to be in her gilded prison a minute longer.
Slowly, she glanced at the luxurious apartment, bathed in the soft glow of the moon, and she waited for the familiar resignation. When it didn’t come, she patted Lily’s letter, burning a hole through her pocket, and released a deep, shaky breath. With trembling fingers, she took out her laptop, set itdown on the counter, and drummed her fingers while she waited for it to start. As soon as it did, she drafted an email before she could change her mind.
After timing the email to make sure it was sent a few hours from now, Amy snapped her laptop shut. She put it away and gave the apartment one final look, expecting to feel something,anythingfor the place that had been her home for the better part of twenty years. All Amy felt as she slammed the door shut behind her and turned the lock was relief.
The feeling stayed with her as she pulled her sunglasses down over her head and wheeled her bag out behind her. In the elevator, she kept wiping her hands on the back of her jeans. When the doors pinged open, she tightened her shawl and glanced around the half-empty lobby. Amy resisted the urge to tap her feet as the doors finally shut again.
Breathing out a sigh, she leaned against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut.
A blast of hot air hit her in the face as she stepped out into the garage, where rows and rows of new luxury cars were parked. Her feet were light and soundless as she wandered through the lot, a growing sense of unease building in the back of her skull. She was about to turn around and go back when her canary yellow car, the same one she’d bought with her first paycheck, peeked out at her on the far side of the lot.
Running her fingers over the outside, Amy felt some of the knots in her stomach tighten.
She shoved her bag in the back, slammed the door shut, and pressed her face against the cool metal. A heartbeat later, she took the key out of her pocket and got into the front seat. When she turned the key in the ignition and eased her foot onto the gas, a jolt went through her. Amy hunched lower in her seat and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.
As soon as she drove out of the parking lot and onto the empty streets of the city, Amy felt like she could breathe again. And the farther away she drove from Eric, and the only life she’d ever known, the better she felt.
Miles away from the city, she turned up the music, rolled down the window, and stuck one hand out, with nothing but the trees, the moon, and an empty highway for company.
Amy could hardly believe she’d finally plucked up the courage to leave Eric.
Or that she was driving away in search of the peace Lily promised her she’d find, far, far away from her husband.
She prayed her stepdaughter knew what she was talking about.
Chapter 2
Present Day
“Ican stay at a hotel,” Amy maintained, pausing to unfold the sheet in her hands. Frowning, she spread it out and took it to the bed.
